


the silence in your bones

by spookykingdomstarlight



Series: across the aisle [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, References to Bloodline, Reunions, Senator Ben Solo, implied Ransolm Castero/Leia Organa, references to Before the Awakening, senator finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:03:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: And Ben… he missed Ben. It was like a limb had been ripped from him when Ben left, a decision that shocked even his mother when she spotted him approaching her ship as she gave one last speech to the people who mattered. The believers. Her own personal Resistance.





	the silence in your bones

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [celeste9](http://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9) wanting some more of the Finnlo AU I wrote for Star Wars Rare Pairs.
> 
> Title is from the song “Break the Silence” by The Dig.

“The First Order is a threat to us all,” Finn said. The words came out of his mouth steady, but every other part of him shook with rage. It was a concession to how upset he was that he didn’t couch his language at all. They still, despite everything, referred to the First Order as the Imperial Remnant in the senate chambers, pretended that wound-licking animal of an organization was the same as what had grown up out of its ashes. His hand slapped against the table, shaking the holoprojector that stood in the center of it. The image fuzzed and jittered before stabilizing again and in the meantime, his compatriots gasped and groaned around them. Twenty of the most influential Centrists in the entire galaxy and they all stared back at him slack-jawed.

Princess Leia Organa was gone. Be—Senator Organa was gone, convinced that they could do no more good in the Senate with the mockery of liberty, of democracy, that it had become. What good were politicians who couldn’t protect their people? Who let terrorist organizations—if that was even what the First Order was, nobody knew for sure what it was up to, but those who cared to think about it had a good idea that no matter what it was boded ill for the Republic—run rampant in the Unknown Regions just because they preferred to believe nothing was amiss?

“Are you just not seeing what I’m seeing?” he asked, pointing at the image of the _Hevurion Grace_. “Ro-Kiintor was a Centrist. He is a traitor to every ideal we proclaim to stand for. More than that, he has proven to every Populist and Populist sympathizer that they are right to fear us.”

_I didn’t stay behind for this_ , he thought. For a brief moment, he scarcely breathed. He had to shove that thought as viciously to the back of his mind as he could. Finn wasn’t one who lived with regret; he owned his decisions and accepted the consequences. But this… he’d been so _certain_. More the fool was he.

He refused to look at Ransolm, though he felt the heavy, determined weight of his mentor’s gaze on his neck. They’d fought about this meeting, bitterly. And now it seemed that Ransolm’s argument would bear out. Not a single one of the senators here were willing to look him in the eye. They just did not care. Nothing Finn could say would change that. Not even hard evidence had changed it.

“We cannot risk—” Senator Leethis said. A gaunt, tall woman only a little older than Finn himself, she appeared like a villain out of the old holonovels. All the way down to the severe bun pulled tight at the nape of her neck, she looked like the Imperial she might have played if she was an actress instead.

“There’s no risk when there’s nothing to lose,” Finn replied. “Our credibility is in shambles. Support is at an all-time low.” His eyes cut to the floor at Ransolm’s well-shod feet. The light glinted off the careful, perfect polish of his shoes. He looked away again immediately and his stomach churned as he couched his argument in the only terms his fellow senators might hear. This was not why he’d joined the Senate. There was only so far a person could compromise themselves before they bent too far. Unfortunately, everyone now saw him as the authority on what the First Order was getting itself up to. He was the only one they might listen to. Might being the key word. And even then, they scoffed at him. The fact that his career hadn’t obliterated itself when he took a chance was the only reason any of them were here.

Everything came back to that moment he’d sided with Ben. “There’s nothing we can do to further tarnish our image with our constituents. So we might as well do this.” ‘This’ meaning call a motion on the floor of the Senate demanding that action be taken against the First Order—stiffer patrols of the borders, exploratory committees to understand just what it was the First Order was doing, increased budgets for the New Republic intelligence services, whatever was necessary.

All of the things the party of law and order should have sprung for.

A hush fell across the room, punctuated only by the awkward shuffling of feet and the occasional cough. The lack of response stretched and mutated, grew uglier by the moment.

Was this how Princess Leia felt? How Ben felt? Impotent rage churned and frothed within Finn’s chest. It would be so _easy._ He saw how easily they could accomplish this and he’d articulated all the reasons why they should in terms that the senators would accept.

It wouldn’t be enough.

His eyes finally found Ransolm’s and he knew there was a pleading quality in them that normally he would have shunned in himself and others, but— _but._

Ransolm shook his head, his lips pulling in a frown. He’d argued against Finn taking this course, had told him time and again in the days before calling this meeting that it would be pointless. He would waste all of his political capital in a pointless stand that would get him nowhere. Seeing the quiet awkwardness of the room shift to resentment and bitterness… Ransolm had been right. He’d gotten himself nowhere doing this and now the others considered him a nuisance, a pest, a reminder of how much better they could be if only they tried. And who wanted that, really?

They’d freeze him out. They’d block any legislature he attempted to bring to the floor. He’d be a pariah before long, a Populist to them in all but name.

He’d had to try. That was what he told himself in that moment. After what he’d given up, he’d believed he could do something, that he had to do something, that if he just presented—

But no.

No, Ransolm had been right. _Ben_ had been right.

And he’d thought…

“I’m done,” he said, so quiet that only Ransolm seemed to hear him. Finn wasn’t sure what he expected in response, an argument at least, but instead, a small smile drew itself across his mouth and the corners of his eyes crinkled with something that might have been pride. He said it again, just to be sure that Ransolm understood. He did and more besides.

He said, nearly as quietly as Finn had spoken, “It’s about time.” Gesturing with a slight tilt of his head, he added, for the others, “This meeting has clearly been a fruitless one. We do so apologize for the inconvenience this must have caused all of you.” As expected, they accepted his words at face value. And even better, puffed up at the implication that they considered each and every one of them to be so much more important than the stakes they were fighting for. Pleased, even despite the disruption to their days, they murmured to Finn and Ransolm both, apologizes, bland explanations, conciliatory admissions that they appreciated what the esteemed senators from Riosa wanted to do.

Excuses piled on excuses piled on excuses. Lies and lies and lies.

As soon as the rest of the attendees had filtered out of the room, Ransolm crossed his arms. “So,” he said, not unkindly, “how soon do I have to find myself a new junior senator?”

Finn shuffled his feet and glanced at Ransolm’s shoes again.

“Huh.” Ransolm hummed in thought. “That soon. I suppose it’s a good thing the end of the session is around the corner practically.” It was a polite fiction, but a fiction all the same. There was still so much left to do here.

And Finn couldn’t stomach a single moment of it, not any longer. Not after this had been thrown in his face. The Centrists were broken. This democracy was almost to the breaking point. There was nothing more _he_ could do here. Maybe others could, but not him.

And Ben… he missed Ben. It was like a limb had been ripped from him when Ben left, a decision that shocked even his mother when she spotted him approaching her ship as she gave one last speech to the people who mattered. The believers. Her own personal Resistance.

A Resistance within which Finn had denied himself a place despite every inch of him clamoring to follow Ben wherever he went.

The quickly guttered flash of betrayal in Ben’s eyes remained with him all these months later. His words, too. _Your responsibility is to the people, not to the Senate. They have more pressing concerns now than the latest piece of gridlocked legislation you’re currently sniping at your fellows over._ Ben could not stay. And Finn could not go—or thought he couldn’t at the time. His duty and his heart were to remain distinct, even as one of them shattered then and there and the other found itself breaking into smaller and smaller pieces by the day.

Every thought of staying on Hosnian Prime a moment longer flew from Finn’s mind, as poisonous to him as eating a kithari mushroom would have been. As though Ransolm had eased the burden by pointing out the obvious, he replied, “I can’t stay here.” Desperation clawed at him now. If he stayed on this planet even one day more, it would be too much. He might just snap and lose what little credibility remained to him.

His place was not here any longer.

From the longing he saw in Ransolm’s blue eyes, the weariness in the line of his mouth, he thought maybe Ransolm felt the same.

“You don’t have to stay either.”

Ransolm sighed. And he smiled, sad and wistful. “Just until the end of this session, perhaps.” His eyes skirted toward the door, a look of consternation falling over his mouth. “I think you’re right. There is no more good left to be done here. Leia Organa deserves the best we can give her. That can clearly no longer be accomplished in these hallowed democratic halls. Go, if you must. I’ll have transport arranged.”

Once Finn reached the door, he added, “And Finn? Do give Leia my regards.”

“I could do you one better,” Finn answered, teasing, “and give her your love.”

Ransolm might not have bitten, but his cheeks did go a little pink and he shooed Finn away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He didn’t say no, however, and that felt like permission enough should he decide it worth it to interfere that much in their lives.

Probably he wouldn’t.

But it was nice to know he had the option.

*

A man by the name of Poe Dameron greeted him on the tarmac, his hands on his waist as he waited for Finn to descend the ramp. About Finn’s height and as handsome a man as he’d ever seen, he greeted Finn like he was one of the gang—with a clap on the shoulder and a grin that could give outshine the sun if given the chance. He wasn’t Finn’s type, but he was a surprise all the same. “Good to meet you, Finn,” Poe said, gesturing toward the main base—or what Finn presumed was the main base. It seemed, whatever it was, to be half-buried in the dirt. “I can call you Finn, can’t I?”

“I’m not a senator any longer,” Finn replied, “if that’s what you mean.”

“Sure.” That megawatt smile ratcheted up its brilliance. “That’s what I meant. Come on, General Organa wants to meet with you. I hear you tried—” But before Finn could learn what it was he’d tried, a dark-clad figure distracted the both of them. Finn would know it anywhere, even dressed in a deep brown uniform that consisted of a vest of all the damned things. He would know it even if the hair that belonged to it hung loose around his face instead of pulled back and twisted into the various braids he wore during his time in the senate. It wasn’t long before he was standing directly in front of them.

He looked good. He looked better than good. He—

“—think I’m going to leave you two to it,” Poe was saying, but what had come before was lost to the ether. Finn would never be able to recall it now, his thoughts too focused on the fact that Ben was here, inches away from him, within touching distance. _Here_. “Ben, don’t break our new guest, huh?”

“I’m not—” Finn said.

“—he’s not—” Ben said.

Poe smiled again, this time soft and a little gentle, like he wanted to take it easy on them. He rested his splayed hand on his chest. “A guest, I know. General Organa briefed me. When you get the chance, allow me to be the second person to welcome you to the Resistance.” His gaze cut to Ben, who barely managed to avoid blushing if the unimpressed thinning of his lips was anything to go by. Finn couldn’t see it, but he was sure that Ben’s ears were a little pink. They usually were when he got that look on his face. “I’m sure Ben’ll do a fine enough job of being the first considering I thought he had patrol right about this time. Just make sure he finds his way to General Organa’s office at some point today, Ben. Finn, good to meet you.”

And with that, Poe was jogging back toward the hangar, the white straps of his flight suit swaying back and forth around his knees. Without him there as a buffer, Finn wasn’t entirely sure what to do at first. They’d been apart for months and they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Finn took it as a good sign that Ben was even here, but…

“You came.” Ben’s tone was serious, wondrous in a way. His eyes searched back and forth across Finn’s face and his hands clenched and unclenched at his side.

“I did what I could.” Finn shrugged. His own hands clenched at his side, itching to take Ben’s hands in his. “It wasn’t enough.”

Ben’s expression darkened. “The Senate is run by fools. And worse.” Finn was about to say something in response when Ben surprised him. Instead of further expounding on it, warming to his subject enough to turn it into a full-blown rant—a common enough occurrence back in the day—he stilled, his features clearing. Finn wouldn’t have gone so far as to call it beatific, the look on Ben’s face, but it was certainly a great deal more peaceful than Finn had expected it to be. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Guilt wrapped vine-line cords around his heart and pulled. Hard. It would squeeze the life out of him if he let it. Glancing around, he caught sight of a handful of people milling about, far fewer than should have been, he thought—was the Resistance truly this scant?—but that, in a way, worked in his favor. Because the attention paid them was minimal, he felt comfortable enough to finally, finally reach for Ben’s hand. Just one. He wouldn’t be greedy here. The miracle of it was the fact that Ben let him. In fact, he clasped back just as hard.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize,” Finn said.

Ben sighed. His mouth crumpled and his gaze took on a subdued, sad quality. “I’m not,” he answered. “You did what you had to do.” He swallowed and his next words were creaking, awkward, stiff to the point of breaking. He never had liked to apologize. “I’m sorry I tried to push you or make you think you weren’t doing your duty to your people.”

Tears didn’t prickle at the corners of Finn’s eyes, but his in-drawn breath was a little shaky to his own ears. He hoped Ben didn’t sense it, though the likelihood of that happening was nil. He might not mention it though. Occasionally, there was a streak of tact in him, of unexpected kindnesses.

He’d changed these last few months. Not a lot. But enough that Finn could notice the difference between the unsettled senator he had been and this more… placid individual standing in front of him. He never would have imagined this might be good for him, but Finn couldn’t deny that he’d transitioned well.

A moment’s panic filled Finn’s heart. What if he couldn’t do the same? What if it would be too hard? He’d grown up surrounded by politics, was practically raised in the senate. This… thing with the Resistance was all so very new to him. He wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t even sure he could do any anything useful here.

But he’d committed. And he’d see it through.

Pulling Ben into a hug, he wrapped his arms tight around Ben’s shoulders, pressed his mouth against Ben’s cheek, his lips brushing Ben’s ear. It forced Ben to bend in a slightly awkward manner, but Finn couldn’t care less about that once Ben brought his arms up in return. Finn could have apologized again and maybe should have, but he realized rather quickly that the words didn’t matter. Only this, this right here, mattered.

Whatever else happened, so long as they were together, Finn would be fine.

And, he thought, so would Ben.

The rest, he trusted, would work itself out.


End file.
